


221 Colors and Flavors 2012 Holiday Edition

by MyLittleCornerOfSherlock



Series: 221 Colors and Flavors [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 221 b drabbles, Blow Jobs, Comfort, Cooking, Fluff, Foreplay, Johnlock - Freeform, Love, M/M, Phoenix AU chapter 9, Sensory Overload
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-10
Updated: 2012-12-19
Packaged: 2017-11-20 19:13:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 3,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/588720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyLittleCornerOfSherlock/pseuds/MyLittleCornerOfSherlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of drabbles/ficlets in the 221 words format.  I asked people for colors or flavors and wrote based on those.  Some are NSFW.  I will continue to add to the series until Christmas.  We'll see beyond there.   They do not follow any pattern or time line.  Each one can stand alone.  Johnlock is the primary theme, but not always sexual in nature.  This is a horrible summary, I'm sorry.  But what do you say, when each chapter is different?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Purple

**Author's Note:**

> For MisstressKikisShipHasSailed. Her prompt was the color "purple".

Sherlock had a habit of categorizing people into colors. Anderson was brown, a dull dimwit full of utter crap. Mycroft was black, mysterious and lacking depth of color of any sort, boring. Lestrade was blue, loyal and hell the bobbies used to wear it so it was only appropriate. Molly and Mrs. Hudson were pink, frilly-girly but bright and intelligent (not that he’d ever let that on). Everyone fell somewhere on the color spectrum, but he had never met a purple until John. Purple was special, purple was royal, purple was magic, and a spectrum unto itself.

Purple was twilight and dusk, those magical times when they could twine together undisturbed. Purple was husky and deep, their voices mingled together. Purple was John’s voice when he sang in the shower. Purple was the feel of John’s skin against his. It was the feel of John inside him, moving in waves, like the deep violet storm clouds streaked with lightning. John crying his name was the purple in the Aurora Borealis, flowing over him in light streaked hues. John tasted of rich merlots, those rare wines that only winter grapes could produce. Amethyst, were his tears, tiny jewels of happiness, Indigo, that in between color of blue (loyal) and purple (magic), were John’s eyes when he would say “I love you, Sherlock.”


	2. Mint

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For KrisKenshin who's prompt was Mint

John was intense in (and out) of the bedroom. If Sherlock was disappointed with John’s observational skills at a crime scene, he couldn’t find any fault in John’s bedroom deduction skills. John used those skills to his advantage and to Sherlock’s great pleasure. 

You’d never know to look at John, just how devious he could be. How he could take a simple, mundane piece of candy, a violin, and turn them into a mind blowing sexual experience. Sherlock would never again take for granted the menthol properties of peppermint. The feel of John’s mouth around his cock, John’s tongue guiding the hard candy along the shaft, the intense tingling sensation left behind. All the while, Sherlock was required to keep playing his violin and not miss a note. Creative devil, his John Watson.

Sherlock’s silk robe flowed with his movements as he played. The feeling of the bow in his hands, the violin settled under his chin on his shoulder, caressing the strings, each note a tribute to John. The rise and fall of the music when John slowly sucked and stroked. As the warmth of John’s mouth left his cock, the cold air intensified the tingling sensation of the mint candy. Sherlock gasped, but kept playing. And as he reached the (his) crescendo, sharp, white flooded his vision, and John swallowed.


	3. Salted Caramel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For MsAether who's prompt was the flavor Salted Caramel

Most people would assume that Sherlock didn’t, no, he couldn’t, appreciate carnal pleasures. Relationships weren’t his area and he most likely thought sex was boring, messy, too emotional an act, merely transport. Drugs and music had most likely been as close as he had been able to come to that sort of thing.

Most people would be wrong. He enjoyed sex, when it was with the right person [John]. It was hot, passionate, consuming, charged. It was slow, decadent, teasing, intense. Fingers, lips, tongues, danced, touched, leaving electrical charges in their wake. Push, pull, grasp, gasp, pant, moan. Standing, sitting, bracing, in the bed, in the kitchen, in an alley. Sliding, diving, sinking, rising into each other. Yes, yes, yes! More, more, more! Here, yes, right there, don’t stop! Please! Oh God, YES! Colors explode, flood behind closed eyes. 

Afterwards, because Sherlock is Sherlock, he would categorize, analyze, sort, the tastes, smells, sounds, feeling, sight of John, filing them away in John’s wing of Sherlock’s mind palace. Each time was different, unpredictable, a new experience, this man who never failed to fascinate him. But one thing was a constant, one thing was comfort, one thing that never changed was the way he tasted. John tasted of sweet and savory. John tasted of a childhood favorite treat. John tasted of salted caramel.


	4. Mint Green

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For DrandMrsJohnWatson (astudyinfic) who's prompt was Peppermint/Mint Green. Since I'd already written Mint, I went with the color Mint Green

The first time they kiss, they are surrounded by the color green. Not just any green, the pale mint green that Sherlock’s eyes turn on rare occasions. John has realized that when Sherlock’s eyes are that color, it’s when Sherlock is really and truly happy. 

John had said something that caused the pieces to click into place in Sherlock’s mind. And in all honesty he couldn’t tell you what it was now if you held him down and tickled him until he cried. When Sherlock grabbed him John would have sworn his eyes were reflecting the color of walls and then Sherlock’s mouth was on his, followed by exclamations of praise on John and degrading on Anderson.

Even more shocking, was that Sherlock didn’t seem to realize what he’d done. John just stood there, dumbfounded, fingers on his lips wondering “Why?”

The second time they kissed, John was done wondering, done denying, and wanted answers. As he handed Sherlock his tea, he leaned in and gave Sherlock a gentle, questioning kiss. When he pulled back, Sherlock’s eyes were that beautiful pale mint green. Humming to himself, John knew he had his answer.

The next time John saw those eyes that pale green again, was when they were both gasping, riding the endorphins, bare, damp skin to skin, clinging to each other.


	5. Heather Grey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For OldAmongDreams who's prompt was Heather Grey. A calming presence enters here.

For such a proud peacock of a man, a man who enjoys his tight button up shirts in rich jewel tones of garnet, of deep amethyst, and obsidian, Sherlock’s favorite color is what some consider dull. His favorite color, heather grey.

It’s the color of his favorite, comfortable t-shirt. The one he wears when he feels vulnerable, and even though he’d never admit it to a soul, the one he wears when he feels like he needs a hug.

It’s the color of the sky before the storm clouds roll in. The color of the sky on the edge of the sea, the mist as it rises over the glens. It’s constant, yet a constant change. It’s peaceful. It’s the color he can retreat to and feel safe.

It’s the color of granite. Strong, immovable, but worn with years of the rain and winds beating down upon it. He feels like granite some days.

It’s why his mind palace is made of granite. Those strong, weather-worn stones, booth smooth and rough to the touch. Impenetrable walls, built high, a proverbial inner fortress.

It’s the color of John’s hair. Not the sandy blonde, but those scattered grey hairs that John chooses to pretend don’t exist. The ones that feel different as he strokes his fingers through John’s hair soothing, after a nightmare.


	6. Arrabiata

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Kryptaria who's prompt was "Flavor: Rich, spicy marinara sauce - the kind that’s almost an arrabiata, with red pepper and raw garlic, but not quite."

A romantic dinner can be one of the most sensory experiences people can share. Each sense can be tantalized, teased, aroused. Dinner as foreplay.

It starts when Sherlock walks in the door and inhales.. He identifies garlic, tomatoes, red pepper. He hopes John prepared penne instead of something as mundane as spaghetti. 

He walks into the kitchen to find the table set, candles lit, and actual linens. For once, John isn’t in his standard jumper, but is wearing a lovely deep indigo blue button up that accents his eyes perfectly, tucked into tight black jeans. Forget the meal laid out on the table, John is a feast for the eyes. John smiles and pulls his partner in, kissing him deeply.

Sherlock, of course, eats. John put effort into this. He had, indeed, prepared penne. The meal and conversation are a mere distraction to what he’d really rather be experiencing; the tastes and sounds of John as Sherlock devours him.

And that’s just what Sherlock does. They don’t make it to the bed. Dishes crash, John moans, Sherlock tastes, claims what is his. He marks John with love bites and nails, bending him over the table. He leans over him and inhales the scent of John. Fitting, what started with the olfactory system should be what pushes him over, into sweet oblivion.


	7. Red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For TheScienceofJohnlock, her prompt was Red.

Red. The color of anger, the color of romance, the color of blood, the color of desire. And, in this case, the color of John’s pants, peeking out at Sherlock as John’s jeans dipped low. Apparently the buckle on his belt had finally broken. Not that Sherlock was complaining. He enjoyed the slight, personal glimpses he could catch of John. The way his shirt would rise when he stretched, revealing downy golden hair that disappeared just as it was getting tantalizing, into his jeans. John wrapped in his towel, fresh from the shower, skin still pink from the heat of the water, beading down his back where he missed a spot when he dried off. And today, the little dimples peeked out just above the red pants and jeans waistband. These small personal moments, no one else got to see. 

Sherlock reached out and hooked a finger through a belt loop, pulling John closer to him. Sherlock loved his chair for many reasons, but this was by far his favorite. It was just the right height. He began to stroke John through the fabric as he began to unfasten the jeans. John moaned and leaned into Sherlock’s hand, hard already. Sherlock didn’t bother to pull down the jeans or pants, he slid John’s cock out into his ready and waiting mouth.


	8. Red; Peppermint

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For PlayingtotheBrightBeat who's prompt was Red;Peppermint. I must admit to having been in poor Sherlock's shoes before.

Christmas tends to bring out the strangest cases. But the candy cane sticking out of the throat of the victim was plain as day. It was obvious that the candy cane had been sharpened, but Sherlock refused to believe that a sugary confection could be made that sharp just by sucking on it. So, he had to experiment and had bought boxes of red and white candy canes. 

John sat reading the paper in his chair, as Sherlock dove headfirst into the boxes in the kitchen. Suddenly, a howl came from the kitchen. John lept to his feet, and bolted in to find a dancing Sherlock waving his hands in front of his mouth as if it burned. “THOSE AREN’T PEPPERMINT!”

John picked up the nearest box and burst out laughing. The ever observant Sherlock had taken for granted that a red and white striped candy cane must be the traditional cooling flavor of peppermint. Instead,in small print, on the front of the box, the flavor read, “Cinnamon”.

He was convinced that Mycroft had purposely switched the flavors to torture him. Mycroft’s text to assure him that was the furthest thing from his mind, but kudos to whomever came up with the clever idea, did nothing to assuage Sherlock’s fit. What did though, was John’s swift thinking and tender kiss.


	9. Orange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Phoenix AU. Based on the poem I wrote a few months ago. See end of the chapter for the poem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Mermaid-Sheenaz based on her prompt for the color Orange.

John stared. His mouth hung open, stunned. He knew he looked foolish, but then, who’s face wouldn’t take much the same form with what he was seeing?

It wasn’t supposed to be possible. This was the stuff of legend, or comic books.

One minute he was standing at Sherlock’s grave, tears falling hot on the cold earth, and the next he smelled burning. He looked up at the tree beside the grave. Flames licked the base of the tree and he heard a piercing shriek. Orange flames, (no, yes!) wings rose. Embers burned, ash drifted down, and a man with flames for wings took shape.

The pale form of a man stepped out of the flames, bright wings slowly folding into his back. Long slender fingers twined with John’s. Fae eyes looked down into his deep blue, tear filled ones. 

Time froze, literally froze, as the Phoenix circled his arms around his beloved. This was their moment, one not to be witnessed by outsiders.

“I’m sorry. It was time and if I hadn’t, it would have been you instead of me, and I always rise from the ashes. Please forgive me.” He places a soft kiss on John’s forehead.

John turns, lips kissing Sherlock fiercely. “And here I always thought you were a man of science, not a creature of myth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At The Headstone
> 
> Time turns  
> The world goes on  
> Life freezes  
> Memories crash, jumbled on jagged rocks  
> Echoes haunt ears  
> Peripheral glances pierce eyes  
> Loneliness threatens to drown  
> Life laughs as up is down and down is up  
> Needing an embrace that isn’t there  
> Searching for the hand  
> Tears fall and scorch the earth  
> Pain cannot be allowed to go on  
> Long slender fingers entwine  
> Breathless blue eyes find those startling fae eyes  
> The phoenix rises  
> Time stops  
> Love clings  
> Life begins anew
> 
> I commissioned NavyDream on tumblr for this beautiful piece:  
> 


	10. Watermelon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For bamfinajumper who's prompt was Watermelon.

The fact of the matter is, there is no polite way to eat a slice of watermelon with your bare hands. It’s juicy, sticky, all around messy, and there was no way Sherlock was going to indulge John in even trying a slice. He’d managed to convince Sherlock to go on a picnic with him, “Enjoy the nice summer day,” but Sherlock drew the line at getting juice and seeds all over himself. If it wasn’t for a case or an experiment, getting messy wasn’t happening.

Sherlock leaned back, propped on his arms, ankles crossed, watching John enjoy his fruity dessert. There was something endearing about John like this. Sherlock could see all the childhood memories come flooding back over his face as he bit into the light red fruit. The way his eyes would crinkle as he remembered fondly a seed spitting contest he’d had with Harry. The way his nose wrinkled when he swallowed a seed and also remembered Harry teasing him about a watermelon growing in his belly. Sherlock smiled to himself, pleased that he could share this moment with John.

A bit of juice dribbled down John’s chin, traced it’s way down his throat, over his Adam’s apple. “C’mon Sherlock, try a taste.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” he replied, mouth and tongue following the juicy trail.


	11. Chocolate Chip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For sureimsherlock who's prompt was Chocolate Chip Flavour

“What a ridiculous idea, John! Making a “smiley face” out of chocolate chips on pancakes! Why would someone do such a thing? Really, Americans have such ridiculous ideas!” Sherlock scoffed. They were taking a quick break for John to refuel at the local “IHOP”. Perhaps accompanying Sherlock stateside on this investigation hadn’t been such a good idea. At every stop he seemed to find something else ridiculous about an American custom or saying. 

“It makes children happy, Sherlock. That’s the kids’ menu,” commented John. Although, “kids” menu fitted the pouting Sherlock perfectly. “You’re welcome to order off of it, if you’re so inclined.”

So, Sherlock did just that, mostly to spite John more than anything. And he even ordered the ridiculous pancakes with the chocolate chip smiley face, sprinkled with powdered sugar for good measure.. 

“Are you even going to eat those? Or just sit there staring, trying to deduce the life of that poor pancake face?”

Sherlock sliced into the pancakes (Really, the things he did for John!), ruining the happy go lucky look of the pancake face, and shoved the bite into his mouth. 

John did a double take. The look on Sherlock’s face usually only happened when he’d reached a clever conclusion to a case (or orgasam), pure ecstasy. “JOHN! We MUST have these when we get home!”


	12. Peppermint

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For LadyWillow1991 who's prompt was Peppermint Flavour

Sherlock,graceful Sherlock, tripped and fell into John’s arms. “Hi-iii Jawn!”

John recoiled back, but held onto his slightly more than tipsy friend. “God, Sherlock, you reek of...” he sniffed again, “peppermint?!” 

“Peppermint Schnapps to be exact. Lovely stuff. You’re warm, why are you so warm?”

John guided Sherlock to the couch, “Why were you drinking schanpps of all things?”

“For science!” As if that explained everything. John began helping Sherlock out of his shoes and coat. “I can’t get my belt unfastened,” Sherlock pouted.

“Oh no! You’re going to have to do that yourself!”

“But I have to take a piss!” Sherlock burst out laughing at himself for using so crude a phrase. “Oh, John, that was a funny!”

John rolled his eyes and sighed. “Fine, I’ll help you to the bathroom and with the belt, but you’re on your own from there.”

“I promise”, said Sherlock solemnly, before he had another giggling fit.

John got Sherlock’s belt undone and began helping his gracefully stumbling friend.

He got them half way down the hall before Sherlock stumbled him into the wall. “John, John, I have to tell you something. Thank you for always being there whenever I need you.” And as he finished he planted a kiss right on John’s lips, not tasting of alcohol, but instead of peppermint candy.


	13. Mocha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For futurecarrotlab who's prompt was "mocha"

and he indulged in it whenever he could. Sherlock had decided that having John run his fingers through his hair helped his thought process. So while John did so, Sherlock went away into his mind palace, gone, sometimes, for hours at a time. Usually, John would just enjoy a cuppa and read the newspaper or surf the net to pass the time. But some days, like today, he’d do nothing more than list to himself the many reasons he loved Sherlock’s hair.

He loved the color. The rich, decadent mocha, that when the light hit it just so, hinted at auburn underneath highlights. How it turned darker, deeper, richer when wet from the rain or shower.

He loved the curls. How they twisted around his fingers, almost as if they had a mind of their own, gently tugging at him. 

He loved the feel of it in his hands. Soft, thick, flowing over and through his fingers like silk as the relaxed together. His mind drifted to the thick handfuls he could hold onto desperately as Sherlock sucked him dry. 

“John, please try not to think about that right now, it’s quite distracting,” Sherlock said huskily.

“I’ll show you distracting, you git,” chuckled John.


	14. Teal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For torchwood221b who's prompt was Teal

Teal is the azure of in between. Is it lighter blue? Is it darker? Is it more green than blue? Which is it?

People don’t know that Sherlock files relationships in his Mind Palace under the blue spectrum. His and Mycroft’s relationship was Steel Blue, tempered over time, slightly grey, no warmth there, but dependable. His relationship with Molly was Turquoise, unassuming yet special, one easily overlooked . And with Mrs. Hudson it was Cornflower, comforting, mothering. 

But, John, was Teal. They were friends, colleagues, but sometimes it seemed like there was more there behind the midnight blue eyes of John. How they’d shift from being serious to mirthful, smile lines and a twinkle forming when they’d giggle over something together. Or growing cold and hard when he was angry, when Sherlock disregarded emotions. Those times, John would throw on his coat and head out for a walk, “just to get some air.” Did John want more? Was John content with what they had? John’s feelings for Sherlock were the one thing he couldn’t deduce.

Sherlock was tired of John being Teal. He detested Teal and it’s in between-ness. Besides, Sherlock wanted John to be the whole spectrum of Blue. So, Sherlock kissed John. And John returned it, but instead of Blue, he was the entire color spectrum from Red to Violet.


	15. Cranberry Muffins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For drakenology's prompt of Cranberry Muffins

Sherlock has a secret. One that even Mycroft doesn’t know about. He’s been able to hide it for years, secretly indulging himself whenever the opportunity arises. He will wait for John to go to work before he contacts his homeless network. Money exchanges hands and the word goes out. Sherlock waits eagerly at a predetermined location absent of CCTV cameras to receive his package. Once received, he manages to make his way home avoiding them as well. 

Once ensconced in his room, he eyes his treasure eagerly. He opens the bag and inhales. That wonderful buttery, tangy scent wafts up at him and he grins with delight. Sherlock pulls out a muffin, golden brown on top, cranberries peeking through the crust, and bites into the soft confection. A moan of pure pleasure escapes his lips as he chews and swallows the moist bread. He takes his time, savoring each bite, knowing that John is at work and he double checked his room for any cameras or hidden mics. As he picks up the bag to get rid of the evidence, he lets out a sound (squeal?) of delight. There’s an extra muffin today!

John grins from outside the door, his heart beats happily. Sherlock has his secret, and John has his. He’s the one who supplies those muffins to the bakery.


End file.
